The Soft Goodbye
by polka dots are underestimated
Summary: Johnny is mourning the death of his sister and has lost all hope when he stumbles across something unexpected. Summary sucks, the story is better. Title comes from a song sung by Celtic Women.


This is another project for my Creative Writing class. Technically, it is a crossover with the book "Seedfolks" which is actually a pretty good book (I recommend it). I obviously don't own Claudia or Johnny (though I wish I did), but the other two characters in here are from the book so I don't own them either. I'm not sure what the general response will be, but I hope you all will enjoy it.

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I was running; running for no other reason than the inexplicable need to run — to move, to get out, to leave behind everything and everyone that had ever meant anything to me. I didn't know where my legs were taking me, but it didn't really matter, the final destination would always be the same: death, destruction. Nothing ever changed, no matter where I went. Ever since I was young, that's the way things have been. Every time something would inevitably go wrong and every single time I would try, however futilely, to fight against it. You'd think I would have learned by now that nothing in this world, my world, was ever permanent. I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment.

I huffed out what was supposed to be a laugh just as I turned the corner — and ran right into and old man, nearly knocking him down.

"Whoa, there! What's the hurry, son?" the man asked once he had steadied himself.

He had such a kind face and a smile that looked like it never went away; I instantly hated him. I wanted to yell at him, to tell him to mind his own business, scare the hell out of him. But for the same reasons that made me hate him, I felt the incredible urge to run to him, to hold onto him and sob. And something told me that, no matter what I did, he would understand.

"Are you okay, son?" the man asked again.

"What would you do if I said I wasn't?"

Without even a moments' hesitation, he answered "I would see if there was anything I could do to help."

I laughed without humor.

"What's your name, son?"

"John…" I paused, "John_ Zacchara_."

I waited for that to sink in. The Zacchara name held power. A power that struck fear into all who heard it.

A sudden realization touched his eyes_. Here it comes,_ I thought to myself, _this man will wish he had never laid eyes on me. _But what he said next surprised me.

"You're Claudia's little brother, aren't you?"

"What?" I said stupidly, taking a step back.

"Yes…" he paused looking me up and down. Yes," he said again as if he had just decided something. "Come here for a moment, I want to show you something." Without waiting for a response, he walked a little ways down the sidewalk and disappeared around a corner.

Part of me wanted to walk away; he was just a crazy old man that didn't know anything. But the other part, the more dominant, wanted to find out what he really knew about Claudia…and why, so I followed.

When I turned into the alcove, I noticed many people in different areas tending to various types of plants. I looked around until I saw the old man standing at the far end of the lot, in the back corner.

Slowly, being careful not to step on anything growing, I made my way over to him. He was bent over a newly budding plant, and as I got closer, I knew exactly what it was; I couldn't mistake it if I tried. There, under the shade of the man, stood a single rose.

"This flower means something to you, doesn't it." The man said this not as a question, but as if he were stating a fact.

"I have to go," was all I could say. I turned and ran, not caring what I stepped on or killed as I fled.

~*~*~

If I had never seen that rose, I would be long gone by now, but it's far too late to think about that now. If there is really a connection between that rose and my sister, I'll find it, and if not, I'll leave, it's just that simple. At least that's what I keep telling myself…the truth is not so black and white. I really _don't_ know what I'm going to do if and when I find out the reason for the existence of that rose. I do, after all, have that "Crazy Italian Blood" running through my veins. But no matter what, I had to do this. And with that thought in mind, I forced myself to walk the few blocks between me and the uncertainty that lay in wait.

As I approached the corner I paused. What if that man wasn't even there? I would be alone again with only my unanswered questions. And what if he was? What was I going to say? I had just run away without a word. He probably thought that I was a coward, unable to face the truth. Once again I had to remind myself that none of it mattered. I needed to know what he knew about my sister and the only thing stopping me was myself.

Hesitantly, I took the last few steps as I rounded the corner. The lot was empty. All accept for the man. Maybe I was just paranoid, but that couldn't have been a coincidence.

The man, having not noticed my presence was sitting down on a fresh patch of grass back in the same corner, tending to the rose. I stood there for a moment not knowing quite what to do. His back was turned to me, so I couldn't quite tell, but he seemed very intense about what he was doing.

"Are you planning on just standing there, are would you like to join me?" The words came out of nowhere, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I shrugged, even though he couldn't see me and walked over to him, noting the damage that had been caused by my careless retreat the day before. When I reached him, he finally looked up at me, smiled and patted the ground next to him.

Reluctantly, I sat down. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed before he spoke.

"She started coming to this place not long after people started planting things." As he spoke, he looked directly at me; his strong gaze seemed to pierce the outside of my existence and see the depths of who I really was. I focused my eyes on the rose and pretended not to notice.

"Why would she come here? This is not even close to where she lives," I paused.

"Lived."

"For the same reason you came here. You were running from something. Am I right?" I didn't answer so he went on. "I wasn't around when this," he motioned with a sweeping gesture toward the ground, "all began, but from what I've heard, the first time she came here, she was jogging and barely gave this place a second look. However, something obviously brought her back as she made this one of her main routes.

"As more people began to show up, she started taking her jogs earlier, and earlier, until the only person in the garden at the time was a little Vietnamese girl, named Kim." He looked down at me trying to catch my eyes and, most likely, to make I was still listening.

"Go on," I said nonchalantly, trying to hide my eagerness.

The man nodded his head knowingly and continued "That's the way it was for awhile, but I'm sure you know that nothing ever stays as it is for long." After a brief pause and a look of deep concentration, he spoke again. "This garden brings so many good people together, but it also draws darkness. The little girl I mentioned to you before, Kim, is a sweet child, but also very trusting. She was only nine years old at the time and spoke very little English, so you can probably see how easy it was for a random stranger to lure her into a car.

I could feel my eyes widen as my blood began to boil. People, men or women, who would even think of bringing harm to a child, deserve to die.

Noticing my reaction, he patted my shoulder and said, "I believe it was God himself who sent your sister that day. She saved that girl, John. She pulled out a gun and mentioned her name and that man was never seen here again." I smile to myself, thinking of my sister like that.

"She carried that gun of hers around like it was a cell phone. She never left home without it."

The man smiled, too as he added with a laugh, "I've noticed."

"What happened after that?" I didn't even try to conceal my thirst to know more.

"Well, long story short, the little girl was certainly not oblivious anymore to what was going on, so by the time the man drove away, she was in tears. So Claudia did the only thing she could, she tried to comfort her…in her native tongue." He paused for effect, his eyes shining.

This was no new news to me. My sister had prided herself in knowing and being fluent in just about every language there was to know. What had surprised me, however was that she actually stuck around and tried to comfort the kid. I suppose that as much as she claimed to care for no one but her little brother - i.e. me, she did have a soft spot hidden in her somewhere.

"In the days that followed, Kim grew very attached to her. She trailed her around like a baby chick whenever Claudia stopped by. Likewise, Claudia, though I doubt that she would've ever admitted to it, seemed pretty fond of her as well. In time, your sister started hanging around this garden a lot more than just an occasional rest from a jog. She even started to walk Kim to school in the mornings and teach her a bit English here and there.

"A few more weeks down the road is where I came in. You see, I had been coming here for awhile by that point, just at different times each day so I could get to know some new people. However, when I finally stopped by here at the time just before dawn, I immediately took note of the seemingly inseparable bond between the two.

"Now your sister, I'm sure you already know, is not too trusting of men in general, and after what had previously happed with Kim, she was really wary of me. But after she realized that I was, at the very least, safe, she seemed more willing to talk to me.

"At one point, Kim got terribly sick and I watched as Claudia not only took care of the little beans that Kim had planted, but also brought books and other little trinkets to her house over there." He pointed to the small house on the other side of the street. "It was also during this time that I really got her to open up to me…

"She told me how, at only five years old, her father had tossed her mother aside when your mother came along. She didn't try to hide the fact that she disliked your mother, either. Then she mentioned that this woman had given birth to a son and I saw all that anger in her disappear. For as much as she didn't like her, she said that she could never truly hate your mother because she gave her you. She really loved you, John."

Stifling the urge to cry, I asked "But…why a rose? My mother loved them and had gardens full of them, giving Claudia a reason to hate them even more."

"Yes," he answered with a smile. "She did hate roses, for awhile, and she did readily admit to hating gardening in general, but_ you_ didn't. She used to watch all the time as you and your mom watered the roses together. I remember her smile as she told me that you would smell like roses for days after that. And that the smell of roses was what got her through the day when her father, having no real use for a daughter when he had the son he'd always wanted, shipped her off to Italy to live with her uncle at the young age of sixteen." He gave me a few minutes to let it all sink in and then continued.

"A few days later, when Kim was well again, I handed Claudia a packet of seeds and she looked at me as if to say '_You've got to be kidding me_.' But when she looked closer at the label, her eyes filled with tears. When I asked her what was wrong, she said 'John's not been very happy with me lately. I think I've gone too far this time.' While she would never let on about what she had supposedly done, it seemed to be a big deal.

"All of a sudden, Kim interrupted us, placing a small hand on Claudia's arm. 'You plant flower, brother then be happy?' she asked in her broken English. After wiping away a few more tears, Claudia hugged the little girl and said, 'That sounds like a good idea, but I'm not too great at planting things. Would you help me?' Kim had nodded eagerly and got right to work explaining the do's and don'ts of gardening switching from English to Vietnamese every now and then.

"And that's how this rose came to be," he said quietly as he reached into his front pocket and pulled out a clean tissue, handing it to me. It was then that I realized that I was crying.

I knew the reason that Claudia had been upset that day. I had just made the decision to propose to my girlfriend when my sister walked in and saw me with the ring. She immediately launched into one of her lectures about how love didn't exist and how her mother was treated as trash and forgotten when our dad fell 'in love' with my mom. And she certainly didn't forget to mention that it was love that had driven our father mad and that he shot the same woman he claimed to love with all his heart. And even though I knew that was all true and she was just trying to be protective, I had callously told Claudia the one thing that would hurt her the most; I said that I was fed up with and done with her. I said that I didn't want to have anything to do with her again. I didn't mean it of course, but apparently she had taken it seriously because I didn't see her much after that.

"She died without knowing that I still loved her," I said aloud. "She was my rock, my haven, the only constant in my life and she will never know how much that meant to me."

"I may have to disagree with you on that," the old man said, reminding me that I wasn't alone with my thoughts.

"Why… why do you say that?" I asked him.

"Because," he started, reaching into his pocket again. "She left this for you…" he then handed me a crinkled, off-white envelope with a small bulge in it. I gave him a questioning look and was about to ask what it was when he cut me off. "Open it and see for yourself."

I did so quickly, opening the envelope and reaching in like a like a child on Christmas, and pulled out a pink-beaded rosary. My hand went to my mouth.

"It was her mothers, the only thing she… she had left of her." I explained, trying desperately not to burst into tears, again.

"She knew you still loved her John, just like she loved you. However, the only kind of love she could truly believe in was sacrificial. To her, you were the only one making sacrifices; keeping her secrets, cleaning up after her mistakes — which she admitted to having many of — and always being there for her, even if it meant putting your life on hold. Letting you be free of her was the only thing she knew to do. This was her sacrifice, her choice, and she made it willingly."

I was about to respond when I felt a timid tap on my shoulder. I looked back to see a beautiful young girl of about twelve standing there. "Are you Ms. Claudia's brother?" She asked in almost perfect English.

"Yes," I answered slowly. "And you are?"

"My name is Kim, I am very pleased to meet you." she said politely, holding out her hand to me.

My eyes, for about the hundredth time that day welled up as I stood, shaking her outstretched hand.

"Your sister told me that I would get to meet you someday. She also told me to look after you so you do not do anything…" she paused "How did she put it again?" Answering her own question, she exclaimed "Stupid! That is exactly what she said!"

I couldn't help but laugh as I pictured my sister, wherever she is now, looking at me and laughing her head off. "Well, I tend to do a lot of stupid things so it's a good thing you're here." I smiled at her and added, "How would you like to help me with this rose?"

"I would be most honored," she said with a slight bow. Claudia must have _loved_ that. Before I could say anything about it though, Kim had taken my hand once again and knelt down beside the rose, talking a-mile-a-minute about flower care.

As I listened I squeezed the rosary beads I still held in my free hand and, with one more tear, I buried it next to the rose.

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A/N: Just FYI, to me, Claudia will never be dead, but it just happened to go with the story prompt and I had only one day to write this. *sigh* My teacher is a slave driver.

And a major thanks to Helena, whose original fiction over at FictionPress has really inspired me lately.


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